Suddenly it's Christmas Eve. In the strangest year I have ever experienced, hands down. Shopping without going into stores, church in my chair instead of a pew, gifts exchanged from porch to porch instead of hand to hand. Day upon day upon day of isolation. Chronic cabin fever. Light-hearted-greeting-card movies annoying instead of entertaining. Desperately trying to find some little scrap of normalcy and failing almost to the point of hysterity (not a real word but it should be - right up there with strategery). And so, here on the eve of The Big Day, I'm casting about to see what is salvageable from the detritus of this season. Surely enough to fill a stocking or two, if not a whole heart. Here's what I have so far...
Several years ago we hopped in the car with a couple of friends and rode around to see Christmas lights. This morphed into a treasured tradition - we have a whole crew now and even rented a big van for last year's amazing light tour extravaganza. The elaborate excursion requires Christmas attire (holiday pajamas and sweaters, antler headbands, hats, etc.) and includes a stop at Starbucks along the way. There is always singing with multi-part harmony, albeit loud and off-key at times. Said singing sometimes occurs while inside said Starbucks and is met with varying degrees of appreciation. Light tour 2020 was cancelled so Hubby has consented to drive me around, looking for lights. We even ventured a few towns away to a live nativity display a couple of weeks ago. Drive-thru McDonalds hot chocolate and the all-Christmas-music-station on the radio in lieu of Starbucks and a chorus this time. We played "guess who sang this song" and I looked up the answers on the station's website. On the way home, we talked about where we grew up and the things we remembered most fondly. For the first time it hit me... I married a city-boy. He recalled school field trips to farms. I remembered Mama picking cotton and dragging me along the rows sitting on the burlap sack strapped across her shoulder. And it got me to thinking about Christmas when I was a little girl in Alabama.
The first time I remember taking a ride just to look at lights was when my uncle told my niece and me to get in his rattle-trap truck, he had something to show us. It was right before Christmas, and we piled in, just the three of us - nobody else was allowed to go - and headed down Hayes Gap. It was dark, no streetlights anywhere, and we wound down the hill and back up and around a big curve and there it was... the biggest Christmas light display I had ever seen. It was back before inflatables, back when all you could get were hard plastic molded figures of Santa Claus in a sleigh with his reindeer; generic snowmen; and, of course, the nativity complete with Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, an angel, a star, and - with the deluxe model - a donkey, a sheep and a camel. This house had them ALL. They had even somehow, miraculously, attached Santa and the reindeer to the roof of the house! Every window was outlined in lights and they were strung along the roofline and porch rails. In addition to the store-bought decor, they had a bespoke tree made out of 2x4's adorned with full-sized lightbulbs - a tin pie plate behind each one as a reflector. It took our breath away. We sat there for a long time just taking it in... parked right on that dark two-lane road on the side of a hill with the truck lights off, oblivious to the potential danger of somebody taking the curve too fast and slamming right into us. We were awestruck. In a little bit, we rolled on down the Gap towards Collinsville and made a quick stop at the Dairy Dip before cutting over to go up Dark Hollow (pronounced Holler) back to the house. It was magical. We repeated this adventure for a couple more years - same route, a few new decorations each year and ice cream to top it off - from the gas station if the Dairy Dip was closed. Then we stopped going. Maybe we figured out it wasn't really all that amazing... maybe we were off to see something bigger and better or more sophisticated... maybe we just grew out of it. Or so I thought. Then the boys came along and we heard about this cul-de-sac a few streets over that had a bunch of houses decorated. Off we went with a new generation and an old tradition. Those folks went all out - dancing reindeer made out of plywood and music playing loud enough to hear if you rolled the windows down. If you were real lucky, one of the homeowners would be standing in his driveway handing out candy canes. Those were the days. This grew into our light brigade from above. Now our boys ride around with their little ones, looking for yards full of giant inflatables and light displays synchronized to a radio station. And so it goes. I count this as one thing we got right as parents. This seeking out the lights.
If you didn't grow up in a small town, especially a Southern small town, you'll never know the splendor of multi-colored lights strung zig-zag from power pole to power pole over the main drag - all 4 or 5 blocks of it, for the annual Christmas parade. I guess somewhere along the way big trucks or farm equipment must have caught and dragged them down because you don't see it too much anymore. Nowadays there are snowflakes or bells - or sea shells if you live in a beach town - safely secured way up high so there's no danger of a close encounter with an SUV. But that's my earliest memory of a Crossville Christmas. Those lights crisscrossing over Main Street and the high school band marching in step with the drummers' cadence. I got to be in the parade one year - 1967 - when I was the Harvest Festival Queen Lower Elementary. We rode sitting up on the back of somebody's convertible. I was so excited I think I may have broken the queen-wave-protocol - no elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist for me. Nope, I waved to beat sixty all the way, especially when I saw Mama and Daddy standing in front of the Dime Store. That was my one and only parade appearance - reign over I returned to the sidelines. But it's set the standard for every parade now. A few have lived up - an evening spent sitting on a downtown Wilmington curb laughing uncontrollably with She-who-shares-my-brain as we realized that most of the parade that year consisted of trash trucks. Or, the year we lived in Texas and the parade came to us. Late one evening we heard sirens and rushed out to see what was on going on... turns out it was Santa Claus on a firetruck riding through the neighborhood. They do that out there, we were told. It was nice once we got over being scared-out-of-our-wits that something was on fire. The neighbors all came out and waved. Spontaneous Christmas right outside the door.
And there it is - this common denominator. My best memories did not come from glamorous well-planned events. Rather, they are a strand of imperfect, uncontrived, unexpected moments that caught me unaware. When the awe snuck up and whispered in my ear, "Would you look at that?" There are a few hours left of this Eve, and it turns out I have a-plenty to string together this year. Early morning texts and porch to yard visits. The little girl now all grown up singing on the TV - Dallas in Dallas. Cooking and baking together - me and Hubby - instead of being by myself in the kitchen. Calls and videos full of excited grandchildren. Staying apart so we can be together again. And Jesus. Always Jesus. The most surprising coming-to and the more astonishing staying-with of all time. Of this time especially.
And one more thing to top it off - a big shiny bow if you will - from back home - from Alabama. After hubby and I had been riding around looking at lights the other night - listening to music and reminiscing - I opened The Facebook and, lo and behold, there was a picture of a Christmas parade. And not just any Christmas parade... it was the parade from Crossville - from home. Taken by a relative I'm not sure I've ever met but know deep in my bones all the same. She stood there with her family in the place I stood with Mama and Daddy all those years ago. And it struck me... though the world seems upside-down and so much is uncertain, even sad, there is still a Christmas parade in my hopeful little home town. Suddenly, unexpectedly, my heart is full. Would you look at that? Selah.
Comments